


It's Only Monday, Mr. Mom

by DoctorFitzy (KittooningMalijah)



Series: Drabbles [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Drabble Request, F/M, domestic AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2015-02-12
Packaged: 2018-03-12 03:10:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3341342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittooningMalijah/pseuds/DoctorFitzy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laid off. Fired. Canned. Dismissed. Let go. Issued a pink slip. The list of phrases could continue for far too long and it was almost embarrassing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Only Monday, Mr. Mom

**Author's Note:**

> Pairing: Biospecialist  
> Dialogue: "You smell of cookies and dirt."  
> Requested by anonymous

Laid off. Fired. Canned. Dismissed. Let go. Issued a pink slip. The list of phrases could continue for far too long and it was almost  _embarrassing._ Sure, Grant had technically been breaking a few company rules and taking breaks that were just a few minutes too long, but he was getting his work done before anyone else — which is why he was taking the longer breaks, to give everyone else a chance to catch up.

Still, that’s not how the company saw it, which was why he was laying face down on the couch at four in the afternoon, a two year old curled up on his back, and a puppy licking leftover flour and sugar from his fingers. The newspaper caught between its teeth just barely grazed is skin, making it difficult to fight back exhausted laughter. Yeah, the idea of looking through the classifieds was shot down less than two hours into his day.

The sound of the front door opening made him lift his head — carefully — and when Jemma stepped into the room, a frown pulled her lips downward into a disapproving expression. It didn’t take her long to gather her thoughts and take slow steps across the carpet (wait, just one minute, was that…  _wet_?) before kneeling nearby. “You smell of cookies. And… dirt?”

"I baked you cookies, it was to cover up the smell of dirt." He lowered his head to the arm of the couch again, his next words muffled by the rough fabric. "And because I don’t know how you do this on a daily basis."


End file.
